


it's such a shame that you became such an issue

by wrenkos



Series: copycat cosplay killer [5]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Introspection, Spoilers, writing ndrv3 fics in 2020? god im valid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23792419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrenkos/pseuds/wrenkos
Summary: Sometimes Tsumugi Shirogane wonders what would happen if she wasn’t mastermind.
Relationships: (very minor shipping), Akamatsu Kaede/Shirogane Tsumugi, Chabashira Tenko/Yumeno Himiko (background), Shirogane Tsumugi/Tojo Kirumi
Series: copycat cosplay killer [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1714123
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28





	it's such a shame that you became such an issue

A laugh in the air, delicate and sweet. Twirling and turning, her skirt flutters in the pink lights, that of the lair she called her own. There was no music, simply in her thoughts, dancing with a mannequin dressed as her idol and savior.

A pastime was a pastime; no matter how stupid or silly. The cosplay copycat killer often pondered, paced, thought so time may pass so she would one day see her carefully thought out plans, meticiulous planning, and nights spent designing and dreading come to fruition. But with every thought that spent another moment, and every glance at the security footage, often her thoughts got so far from the “current Shirogane” she sometimes wondered if there were bits and pieces of the “survivor Shirogane” was left somewhere in her brain even after Danganronpa had written her to be new. 

Sometimes Tsumugi Shirogane wonders what would happen if she wasn’t mastermind.

Oh, naive and sweet Kaede Akamatsu (how far she came and gone; but she was gone, quite literally, now), would she laugh and take her hand for her own? Would the blue-haired girl’s heart race, dance until it was about to burst from her chest, or would her emotions remain the same sorry state they were now, bursting with pity and laughing at her weakness?

She doesn’t know.

If she closes her eyes and imagines Akamatsu, there, those twinkling eyes and dazzling smile, would she still want her head on a platter to serve to an audience of hungry beasts? If she was, perhaps, just as stupid and idiotic as the pink-purple themed blonde, would they be happy? Of course, it would be unlikely she would kill that idiot Amami — what then? Where would they be, then; would Akamatsu figure out the dots and connect them, or would she be put to the death again? Nails painted white and purple; or stained pink with the blood bursting from someone else?

If it wasn’t her who caused her undoing, would she mourn?

She doesn’t know that, either.

Perhaps she would find someone she fancied; a Tenko to her Himiko; perhaps she would connect with someone in a way that simply wasn’t scripted. Maybe it would be with Toujou; a refined air between the two of them, her grace to her own un-grace, and perhaps her heart would flutter and skip one time too fast whenever the taller girl would smile at her? Or maybe someone else, equally as kind, equally as elegant; or would it be with someone more wild and someone more daring than her?

Blue eyes wander as she twirls and spins, pink pigtails accompanying her every step as the mannequin — (what a pathetic paper doll of an excuse; it couldn’t even hold a candle to _the_ Junko Enoshima!) — sways dangerously close to clattering to the floor.

A part of her wants it to, she thinks.

But the thought is alien, it comes and goes, and again the cosplayer lets out a laugh that falls on no one’s ears. A part of her wants it to? — Ha! Who is she to go against her idol, the one who inspired her to throw her entire life away? What is she doing, almost but not quite regretting it, letting her thoughts wander so stupidly? 

Who is she?

… Who is she, the girl thinks, and her movements sway to a stop, a feeling she can’t quite detect but knows she doesn’t enjoy. 

Is she the girl who dreamed of being on stage, for all eyes to be on her, or is she the girl who nobody even knew existed? Is she the girl gone missing, only to reappear with cuts along her fingertips from stitching and sewing outfits for a fictional character more real than her? Is she someone missed, is she someone hated, is she a survivor or a victim or a killer? Is she remembered, will she be remembered; _why won’t I be remembered_ — 

Pins and placement, a bang and a clatter of something she should be holding a bit more dearly, everything falls apart.

The mannequin’s head — wig now fallen, too, those iconic pink pigtails on the floor, dusty and dirty, now — rolls to her feet, and stops.

For a moment, all she does is stare.

She pushes down the feelings, caps the bottle that wants to spill and burst, and when she leans down to touch the fabric of the school uniform of the original mastermind, she wants to tear it and burn it and run away.

She does not.

Neatly and organized, a smile fixed in place (but crooked, only to her eyes), she sets up the mannequin on it’s feet, makes sure everything is perfect. Static pricks her fingertips as she smooths the clothing out, yet she does not stray away from the path she has been set to.

Everything will be perfect.

Tsumugi Shirogane doesn’t think about what-ifs again.

**Author's Note:**

> (writes this in half an hour) anyways. every now and then i get emo over tsumugi shirogane. thank you for reading!


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